


The Mage of Swords

by Ethren



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethren/pseuds/Ethren
Summary: The last time the Red Death came to Vesuvia, Ethren Whitecross lost his life. After sacrificing his own heart to bring back his lover, Asra had to reteach the newly resurrected Ethren how to be human again. With no memory of his past and a master who keeps the truth from him, Ethren spends every day with Asra learning magic - unaware of the evil that courses through Vesuvia.The Red Death, caused by the malicious Count Lucio in a desperate attempt for his own immortality, ended with his demise. But it is returning, along with the spirit of the Count. He wishes to return to life as an immortal - but he can't do it alone. He searches for Asra and Ethren. Asra, the true heir to the throne of Vesuvia. And Ethren, who has more magic flowing through his veins than any other mage in Vesuvia - and with him as a vessel for an evil ritual, he can give Count Lucio the power he needs to return from the dead. And once he does, plans to absorb the Devil into his very being, destroy the other greater arcana and become the immortal ruler of this world.





	1. The Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> This'll read as a chapter book. All smut chapters will have an (S) on the title. I will be altering canon in this story to create more adventure, tension and travel.  
> This is just Ethren's form. The first chapter will come soon!  
> 

 

**Ethren Whitecross**

**The headstrong apprentice who strives to reclaim his hidden past.**

 

 **Name:** Ethren (Ren) Whitecross

 **Bound Arcana:** The Suit of Swords

  * “The Suit of Swords Tarot card meanings are associated with action, change, force, power, oppression, ambition, courage and conflict. The negative aspects of the Suit of Swords include anger, guilt, harsh judgement, a lack of compassion and verbal and mental abuse.”



**Age:** 22 Years Old / May 19

 **Zodiac/Personality Type:** Taurus / INTP - The Logician

 **Familiar:** Amoux, the Golden Eagle.

  * Amoux is his familiar. Found as a young adult, after being caught in a poacher’s trap, Ethren immediately felt a connection with the animal and nursed it back to health. Amoux, while he shares Ethren’s dry humor and broody personality, is much more sensitive than his master, easily picking up on the emotions of others when Ethren chooses not to acknowledge them. He’s cautious and wary, constantly looking out for Ethren and cares for him deeply.



**Possessions:** Scimitar | Obsidian arrowhead necklace | Black leather journal

 **Magical Talents:** Elemental Offensive Magic / Literary Vision Projection

 

  * __Elemental Offensive Magic:_ Ethren possesses incredibly powerful magic. Unfortunately, he lacks any and all control over it. He’ll try to light a candle, and it will burst into flames. The only time Ethren can ever focus his magic is in the heat of battle, where he then obtains control over his magic which he then uses in defense. He’s most proficient with electricity and fire, and struggles with water due to the fact that it requires constant focus to maintain its form. _


  * _Literary Vision Projection:_ Due to the powerful excess magic he holds, one of the ways he can release the arcana that floods inside of him is writing. While he writes, he can let his own arcana seep into his writing, and as such, when you read his written words, you can see what he sees. When he describes a dress, or a distant land in his script you can see exactly what he imagined, allowing him to be an incredibly potent story teller.



 

 **Standard Skills:** Literature, swordplay, performing.

 

  * __Swordplay:_ Ethren, due to his love of heroes always wanted to learn how to practice swordplay. When he was young, his parents had him train with Nadia in the art of swordplay. She was his combat master, and she trained him well. He can now single handedly take on almost any in Vesuvia._
  * _Literature: Ethren is an incredible writer. He loves to write stories of far off lands, magic, monsters and dream that one day he’ll be able to have adventures like the heroes he writes about._



 

  * _Performing:_ Despite being very shy one on one, Ethren had a knack for performing for others. He’s great at making speeches in front of large bodies of people, loves to dance with his sword and swing dance, and he is fairly good at playing the flute.



**Weaknesses:** Independent skills, general endurance, social skills, physical flexibility.

**Personality:**

 

  * _**_Apathetic_** ** _:_** Ethren has extreme apathy issues towards other people that aren’t in his friend group. Any that he does not consider family is considered ‘faceless’ and he has little to no regard over their lives. He’s the kind of person who takes care of his pack - and only his pack, and as far as he’s concerned, anyone else can burn. _


  * **_Attention Seeking:_** Ethren loves being in the spotlight - of his own will, of course. He has to want the spotlight in order to enjoy it and unfortunately, that tends to be often. For as broody and quiet as he is, he has the heart of a performer and loves to show others what he can do. With no fear of a crowd, he’s an incredible public speaker, and he’ll dance and sing and twirl flaming swords around for a screaming audience and have the time of his life. But that also means that something he can’t stand is when he feels other people are sucking up his spotlight, and he’ll work to out do them however he can.  
  * **_Blunt_** _:_ Ethren is blunt - but not quite honest. He’ll lie in order to get himself out of a dangerous situation, be it to a courtier or to a guard, but he is incredibly blunt and speaks his mind. He doesn’t believe in sugar coating things, which makes him one of the best people to go to when it comes to needing advice. He’ll tell you straight up what he believes, and would never lie to you in order to avoid hurting your feelings.



 

  * _**_Dark Humored:_** Ethren has humor - although, it’s incredibly dry. He finds dark things funny, and will give small, at times insensitive quips that others may not understand but he’ll bust out laughing at. One thing that he does find funny is pushing people’s buttons. If someone tells him not to do something, he’ll do it just to draw a reaction out of them. And find it funny._


  * **_Intuition_** _:_ Ethren has great intuition. As soon as he meets someone, he picks apart every piece of them. The way they talk. The way they move. What they wear, what they say. And with the pieces he finds, and his gut instinct, he makes a decision. And more often than not - he’s correct about his gut feeling. He can tell straight away whether someone is cocky or benevolent, whether they’re lying or telling the truth.


  * **_Loyal_** _:_ Ethren’s love is selective. He prefers to be alone, and as such, in order to get close to him, he has to enjoy your company more than his own solitude. But once he finds that person, he will never, ever let them go. Even if he should. He’ll protect them with his life, defend their things as if they were own and hold their opinions and words to heart. However, this also means that he can be easily manipulated by those he loves. They can beat him down, abuse him and send him to his knees and he’ll thank them for it. Even if he knows they’re abusive, he’ll let them do whatever they wish just out of raw fear of them leaving. He has abandonment issues and will kiss your boots to keep you from leaving him.


  * **_Solitary:_** Despite his love of performing, Ethren is a solitary person. In a crowd, he’ll hang back by the walls if he’s not sucking up the attention by being in the middle. When he’s engrossed in his hobbies, which are primarily solitary ones, he enjoys to be by himself. People, and general social interaction exhausts him, and he’d much prefer to be alone with his books and his writing and his personal training and advancement than deal with the drama of others.


  * **_Willingness to Change:_** Ethren whitecross is not perfect. In fact, he has a great number of flaws and errors. He can be short tempered. He can say something that’s insensitive. He might act cold, or aloof. But he is aware of everything he says and does. And even more so - he has a willingness to change for the people he loves. If he makes a mistake, he’ll apologize for it, and will instantly begin to set to work on changing himself so that he can be a better man. He lacks love for himself. In fact - Ethren downright loathes himself. But he loves his friends, and his family. And as such, they inspire him to do and be better.



 

 

 **History** **:**

Ethren was the only child of two explorers from distant lands. His father was a seasoned veteran adventurer, known as the White Wolf from all over the land, contrary to his trademark stark black hair. His mother, with her caramel copper hair looks much more like Ethren, save for the eyes, as he holds his father’s teal gaze. He was born to them in Vesuvia, after they came to the city in order to settle down with their son, and that was when Ethren’s magical prowess came to be.

Ethren’s magic is extremely powerful. Off the charts. While his mother could control her healing magic, Ethren’s couldn’t be contained. It was dangerous. In order to help harness his power, his parents introduced him to activities that could help focus his energy. In order to calm his mind, he was enrolled in swordplay classes, which is where he met his close friend, Nadia.  He thrived in those classes, and was easily one of the best students and fighters in Vesuvia by the time he was twelve. They encouraged him to write, and he quickly began to fall into worlds beyond Vesuvia, where he didn’t have to be afraid of his own power, and could tell stories of himself as a hero, like his father. But his own tale had no happy beginning.

Rumors of Ethren’s power spread throughout the land. That there was a young boy, living in the poverty riddled streets of Vesuvia who harnessed more power than any other mage. They came to his home, attacked his family, attempting to steal Ethren away - and in a moment of desperation and fear, he unleashed his power. And destroyed everything on the block. Including his family.

Orphaned and alone, he began to wander, until he was picked up by a group of young men and women. A gang, who called themselves the Wolves of Vesuvia. And for a long time, they gave Ethren everything he wanted. Their leader was someone who Ethren looked up to, and admired. They gave him a family. They gave him adventure. They’d roam Vesuvia, a group of teenagers causing trouble, stealing and looking out for each other. But Ren couldn’t see what they truly were, beyond his bliss at finding a family. He couldn’t see the manipulation, or the abuse. Couldn’t see the way they stomped on him, being the youngest and the ‘omega.’ He let them use him until Ethren ran himself ragged.  And finally - one day - they left. They packed up, grabbed their bags, went to the nearest harbor and left. Leaving Ethren behind.

Since then, Ethren has harbored a distrust towards others, and a desperate fear of abandonment. The idea of falling in love terrified him. The idea of making friends and a family even more so. Why bother, when you would just end up alone. But that changed, when he met Asra. Not even a year had passed since his parent’s deaths, and the abandonment of the group that he once called a family. So when he met Asra, curly haired, bright and trusting, he instantly disliked him. Especially the way Asra clung to him, as well as his big friend Muriel, trying to get Ethren to join them and sit with them by the fire by the docks.

Slowly though - day by day - Ethren began to tolerate Asra. Then enjoy his company. And soon, Ethren had a family again. In Asra, in Faust, in Muriel and in Nadia, who they would visit occasionally as she acted much like a big sister to Ethren, providing food here and there since the death of his parents.  Eventually - Ethren went out on his own. The three separated - Asra and Muriel leaving to live in the forest together, while Ethren began to renovate the home that he destroyed, turning it into a sanctuary. Eventually - after several long years, Ethren sought Asra out, begging for the elder to each him magic. Something Ethren had been terrified to practice since the deaths of his parents. Asra moved in, and slowly, Ethren has been learning the focus and control that it will take to become one of the most powerful mages the world has ever seen.


	2. The Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nanowrimo's finally here which means I can finally start posting. It's not very good, but oh well. XD

 

Fire and ash. That was all I could remember, from the time that I was alive. And now....nothing.  There was nothing but smoke and shadow that crushed me as I sank deeper into inky waters. I was dead. I knew I was dead, even before the cold began to chill my bones. But....how? Why? I opened my eyes. I was beneath the waves, naught but water and darkness surrounding me as I sank. Completely alone. And yet...I could hear sounds.

The sounds of fire, burning in the distance. The sounds of screams, wails of despair. _Please, not this. Not the flames, no! Please, god!  Let me live!_

So many voices. They were as crushing as the waves surrounding me, and grating my teeth, I pulled my knees into my chest, covering my ears. Stop. Stop, shut up.

“ _No_! Bring him back!”

That voice.

It cut through the others like a knife and I spun around, kicking my legs. I recognized him. White hair billowed around his head as the man seemed to look past me, gazing into the sea of black.  

“Please! Take my magic, take my soul, take my heart! I’ll give anything, just bring him back! I offer a deal.”

Who was he...? There was laughter in the gloomy veil. A shape was slipping through the dark water, a malevolent presence that made a chill run down my spine.

 _“Deal?”_ The voice purred.   _“I like deals.”_

“I know you do,” breathed the man, clenching his fists.  He peered into the shade with lavender eyes, grating his teeth.  “Which is why I’m here now.”

There was silence. The shape sifted through the water, and a knot of fear grew in my stomach as I watched the man. His face....it was so familiar.

_“For a thousand years, bound, I have watched you, Asra.”_

A figure materialized from the water. An eel, inky black with white runes running down the length of its serpentine body, eyes glowing with a hellish light as it slipped around Asra. _“So potent. So powerful.”_ Its rubbery body slid along Asra’s neck, and a disgusted look passed over the man’s features, but he stayed still.   _“And yet you’re afraid.”_

“You know what’s been taken from me,” Asra hissed, eyes narrowed as they followed the eel that circled him, like predator closing in on its prey.

 _“Yes,”_ the creature agreed, voice echoing in our minds. _“Death draws near. And only I can sustain him. For a price.”_

“Anything.” Asra twisted around to face him. “I’ll give anything.”

_“Oh? Anything?”_

The eel was smiling. Gruesome, horrible fangs split into a smile. No. This wasn’t right...don’t make that deal. I tried to call out to the man, but my voice was caught in my throat. I could only stand and watch helplessly as Asra turned, eyes fiery as he placed his hand over his heart, staring down the eel. “Anything.”

 

 

 

A knock on the door had me tumbling out of bed in a flurry of blankets.  I hit the wooden floor with a ‘thud!’ and groaned, wincing as I reached up to rub at my throbbing head. Gods...what time was it? I looked outside. The sun had barely risen, and a faint purple glow emanated from the Vesuvian streets outside. It was barely dawn, and here someone was, knocking on our door.

With a sigh, I picked myself up as a voice echoed in my mind. _Well? Are you going to answer?_

“I really don’t want to,” I muttered to the golden eagle who was perched on the tree growing up through the floorboards, ignoring his pointed glare that was set on me.

_Asra will be angry if you ignore-_

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Pulling on my robes, I gave an exhale, trying my best to remove the resting bitch face that likely was spread over my features to open the door. “Hello,” I greeted the stranger. “Welcome to our Shop.”

A little old woman stood outside, wrapped in a purple shawl. Her grey hair was knotted and tangled, brambles and twig snaps in her wild mane as beady eyes looked behind me expectantly. “Are you Asra?” She asked, her thin voice like sandpaper and I sighed.

They were always looking for Asra.

“Sorry,” I said. “He’s out right now.” Like usual. “Can I help you perhaps?”

“Oh...” She twisted her hands. “There was something I’d like to tell him...”

“Maybe you could tell me?” Or maybe you could go away. But Asra would have my head if he knew I turned someone away and the woman looked up anxiously, eyes searching me. Then, recognition slipped over her gaze.

“...Ethren? Is that you, boy?”

My muscles tensed. Another person who recognized me that I had no recollection of. “Yes? Have we met before?”

“Long ago. Move aside, boy. My old bones are tired.”

I stood aside as the woman brushed by, muttering under her breath as she hung her shawl up on our coat rack. She was wiry and thin, the dirty gown she wore far too large for her thin frame. “Where is Asra?” She asked, looking over.

“I’m not sure. And I don’t know when he’ll be back, either.” Before I knew it, the old woman sat down at our dining table, looking at me expectantly. Damn. She wanted something to eat. Numbly, I sighed, cooking up some food as she sat quietly. It wasn’t awkward. I was never a good talker, at least one on one, so I listened to the sound of the broth bubbling and the sneeze of the fire salamander that warmed our kettle.

I heard a hacking cough and glanced backwards. The old woman was coughing into the back of her hand. She looked so frail, like someone could snap her in half.  

As her meal finished, I placed the steaming bowl in front of her, and leaned back against the wall.  “Enjoy. Now, what was it you were going to tell Asra? Anything you want to tell him, you can tell me, too.”

“Oh? Aren’t you just his apprentice?”

The edge of my lip twisted. “You could say that. But we’re close.”

Her eyes glittered as he brought the bowl to her lips, eyes closed. “I wanted to give him a letter.” Fishing into the folds of her dress, she drew a letter, closed by a golden seal with an arcane symbol. I’d never seen it before.

“Is it from you?” I asked, taking it delicately from the woman and lit a candle to examine it. There was no return address. Just Asra’s name, and the location of our shop.

“No. From a mutual friend.”

“Mutual friend, huh?” I couldn’t think of anyone who would possibly send that letter. Maybe that big man who always hung around in the alley shadows pretending he was invisible. His name...it always slipped my mind. Shaking my head, I tucked the letter into my robe. “All right, well thanks. I’ll deliver it to him when he gets back. Let me escort you out.”

I was eager to have her leave, so I could sit down and enjoy a meal of my own. But her words halted me in my tracks. “Oh? Am I not going to get a reading? That is what you do here, is it not?”

“I...yes. Asra is typically the one who handles clients, but I can take care of whatever you need.”

She looked me up and down inquisitively. “Oh? Well all right, dear. Lead the way.”

Pushing back my chair, I led the old woman towards the back of the shop, pushing aside the curtains that revealed a small table draped with linen, a crystal ball sitting atop the table.  Surrounding the walls were shelves that were cluttered with countless artifacts and trinkets, objects that Asra had collected on his travels. “What kind of reading would you like today?” I asked, moving towards one of the shelves. Hopefully Asra left his deck. “We do palmistry, crystal scrying and three card readings.” At least, that was all Asra would let me do. Anything else and we’d have to worry about me blowing the place up.

“Scrying. You seem to have lost the deck.”

I winced, stilling my fingers that were tearing through the shelf belongings. “Ah...misplaced,” I sighed, turning back to her. “It seems Asra took our deck. Please, take a seat.”

The old woman drew back her seat, sitting down as I sat opposite her. I could already feel a nervous welt in my stomach. I wasn’t proficient at this. Not nearly as well as Asra. My arcane skills were much more...physically oriented. But still, it was one of the few arcane forms I could channel without risking harming another, so I tried to take it seriously.  

Using an obsidian globe as our scrying glass, I exhaled, turning up to the woman. “Ask your question,” I said. “What is the intention of your reading?”

“What does the crystal’s sight hold for Ethren Whitecross?”

I paused, my fingers stilling over the glass and glanced upwards. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

She stared at me with eyes that told me it was anything but. The hell was this old bat playing at? I snorted, glancing back down. “All right,” I breathed, closing my eyes. I’d never done a reading for myself. Only the purchased readings. “You’re still paying for this.”

“We all owe our dues eventually.”

I hesitated - then gave a breath, leaning forward. Thin hands wrapped in linen gauze hovered over the crystal ball as I closed my eyes, beginning to focus. I allowed the world around me to melt away. The bubbling of Asra’s apothecary. The sounds of the city outside our shop. The sizzling of the stove salamander. All I could hear was my own breath, the beating of my own heart.

My future...? I was so wrapped up in my missing past, the future was just as blank. I felt warmth flooding through my veins. I had to open myself up to the arcane.

I opened my eyes. Everything seemed more vibrant. The colours of the fabric that hung over the door. The aromas of incense burning on the windowsill. The touch of the glass beneath my fingers. My palms felt hot as I focused my energy into my hands, could practically feel it rippling through my veins...too hot. Like always, my chest was heating as energy rippled through my body without control and I took a deep breath, grating my teeth. Focus.

I gazed into the ball, where for a moment, there was nothing but obsidian glass that showed me my reflection.  The bandages that covered my hands brushed against the crystal ball in a caress as my fingers roamed over the surface. Show me....

My brows bumped together. Deep within the crystal ball...I could see shadows. Tendrils of smog twist twisted and coiled together, the essence of an image being formed. I focused my magic there, and there was a faint glow within the obsidian as images began to be conjured.  

“What do you see?”

I jumped as the woman scared the shit out of me. Her raspy voice echoed throughout the little room and I shook my head, eyes narrowed as I slid my fingers along the ball. “I can see....a building..”

I winced. There was a pain that was beginning to take root in my temples. Thinking it just the beginnings of a migraine, I ignored the feeling as I continued to search. I could feel my senses opening, like a flower blooming, allowing for energy to ripple through my fingers.

“Look further.”

I glanced upwards. She wasn’t watching the crystal ball. She was watching my face, her beady, golden eyes watching me knowingly and I returned my attention to the crystal ball. There was a castle... “It’s on the shore of a beach,” I whispered, heat building in my stomach. “Along a shore...a shore of ash. And a sky filled with smoke.”

I rolled my jaw. The pain in my head was spiking and I forced it away.

“What is inside the castle?”

This felt wrong. It was like I was delving into a place I wasn’t meant to be. Something tugging in my mind to turn away, but I couldn’t. I could only stare into the shadow, searching. I entered in through the great oak doors of the castle, and into a room. I could scarcely see details. The furniture seemed to dissolve into wisps of smoke. So much that even miles away, my chest felt tight, like I was in there, suffocating.

“Search. Go deeper.”

I didn’t want to. Fear was spiking in my chest, and I couldn’t look away. Like my fingers were trained on the glass. There was a room. A room where there was a glow, and heat that rippled from within. I could feel myself drawing towards it, my face growing hotter and hotter as I closed the distance. When I looked into the room - the castle melted away. I was engulfed in flame, surrounded by metal and iron...the inside of a stove? But how?

I looked through the flames that blasted me from all sides. I could see something....a shape in the fire.

 _Ethren, turn back!_ A voice was calling to me. Yet, something was tugging me forward. It was like there were chains clamped around my wrists and ankles as i was dragged towards the shape. My fingers were vibrating, shuddering along the glass as I peered into the crystal ball.

“No...no that can’t....” My voice was caught in my throat.

The figure that was lying there in the flames....was me. Caramel hair burned away into charred wisps. Tanned skin melting away into bone. Burning away until there was nothing but ask.

The crystal ball went flying as my body jolted. A scream tore from my chest as pain exploded in my head. It was like I was there, in the flames. Fire coursed through my brain, my veins, setting me alight. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t even feel myself hit the floor as I fell from the table, writhing on the ground as my legs were pulled into my chest, my fingers tugging at my hair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the woman slowly standing. She was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear her. My senses were going up in ashen vapors as I clenched my jaw, tears streaming down my face. It felt like my body and mind were dissolving, piece by piece into ash.

Make it stop. Make it stop. _Make it stop._

_“Ethren!”_

The curtain was torn away. As I lay there writhing, Asra burst into the room, a staff in hand as he brandished it towards the woman who stiffened. The candles flickered before going out, a heavy ambience falling on the room as laughter rippled from the woman. I could barely see. Their bodies were like silhouettes but somehow...the woman was rising, as if suspended by smoke. _“There you are,”_ she hissed, long nails extending into claws. _“We’ve been looking for you.”_

“You’re not welcome here,” Asra snarled, twirling his staff, light gathering in his palm. I could feel the brush of scales against my cheek as Faust slithered underneath my head, keeping it from cracking against the floor anymore. “Begone!” He waved his staff, a flash of mana blasting from his weapon, striking the creature who howled, dissolving into tendrils of shadow as she slipped out a crack in the window and into the streets.

The pain in my head, worse. Cracking. My skull was cracking. I could feel Asra dropping to his knees, my head being pulled up off the ground and into his lap and heard him curse. “Amoux! Find Ilya, now! Ethren, _Ethren_...”

Even as the room blackened as I faded into unconsciousness, I could still feel the roaring flames and the heat against my face, and horrible laughter echoing in my mind.  

 

 

 

When I woke, my entire body felt warm and sweaty. My limbs were like lead and as I opened my mouth it was like there was sand filling my mouth.

“Fuck.”

Peeling my eyes open, I gazed upwards, squinting. This wasn’t the shop.  It was more like an apothecary. There was a brew bubbling on multiple cauldrons, the shelves lined with vials and herbs, crushed leaves around a mortar and pestle in the corner. I was lying on a bed of cotton sheets and as I moved, my vision swam, pushing myself upwards.

The first thing I noticed, was Asra, asleep by my bedside. He was slumped against a chair, holding his arms as he slept, his chest rising and falling, Faust snoozing around his neck.  

Then, I saw that my bindings were off. For the first time in a while, my eyes roamed over my forearms and palms, eyes trailing along the fern-like [ scars ](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jHOJSxYEh5s/maxresdefault.jpg) that were spread out along my skin, traveling up my arms.

“Ethren?”

Asra was stirring, blinking blearily as he stood, coming to my bedside. Faust slithered away from him, curling up on my chest and the bed trembled as Asra sat down, watching me with concern. There were purple bags under his eyes, his tanned skin a bit more ashen than usual. “How are you feeling?”

Feverish. My skin was prickling with heat, my legs and stomach felt soaked with sweat. My limbs were heavy as anvils. “Tired,” I muttered, wincing as Asra put his palm on my forehead. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe. Do you...” he hesitated, biting his lip. “Do you remember anything?”

No. I remember nothing. I remember....I was giving someone a reading. But after that.... “Nothing.”

He looked relieved. Asra exhaled, sitting back and rubbed his face tiredly. “I’m glad you’re okay...you’ve been asleep for a few days.”

Well, that would explain the gaping hole in my stomach. I was starving. As if thinking about it triggered my hunger, there was a rumbling growl from my bowels and Asra laughed, standing. “I’ll take that as my cue to get you some food. Think you can stomach it?”

“Guess we’ll see.”

“I’ll be back in a moment, then.” He strode out the door, closing it gently behind him. Through the walls, I could hear him talking to people. Another man, his voice deeper, crisper, and what sounded like an old woman.

 _You were out for some time._ I glanced up. Amoux sat on the windowsill, the eagle’s golden eyes locked on me and I sighed, struggling up into a sitting position while Faust curled around my neck. _Do you really remember nothing?_

I shook my head. It was like there was a chunk missing from my memory. Even trying to remember, I could feel a spike of pain throbbing in my temples and I rubbed them tiredly. “No. You didn’t see anything?”

_I was hunting._

“Useless bird.”

_I’m not the one beaten by a shriveled old bat._

The door opened and Asra poked his head in. “Ethren?” He said. His eyes were cold, like he just had a whiff of something foul smelling. “Someone’s here to see-”

“Ah, good to see you’re awake!”

A tall man, garbed in a black and blue navy coat brushed past Asra, nearly knocking him over in his excitement as he strode into the room. Auburn red hair fell over an eye patch as he grinned a white smile down at me. “Alive, great to see. I was getting worried there.”

“Ethren,” Asra sighed, slipping around the man. “Meet Il- Julian. Julian, meet Ethren.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Julian said, sweeping into a bow, his coat flapping behind him. “Now, if you don’t mind.” As if the man had no qualms about personal space, he sat down on my bed, taking my arm. My entire body tensed.

“Typically, the scars I’ve seen are gruesome, gag-worthy and grotesque, but I gotta say, yours are quite fetching. How did you acquire them?”

I wrenched my arm away, glaring up at Asra who shook his head helplessly. “Julian nursed you back to health,” he explained, stepping in front of the window. “You got really sick and feverish, and I couldn’t bring you down from it, so I called for Julian to help.”

“And it’s a good thing you did,” Julian said, looking up to Asra. “How did this even happen? Did you make him sick with your voodoo witchcraft?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

Asra hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure he even wanted to answer. But I moved my hand, placing it over his as he sat down beside me, watching him intently. “What _did_ happen?” I said. “My head...I can’t remember a thing. Except an old woman.”

“She wasn’t an old woman.”

Asra was looking out the window now. Grey clouds were gathering overhead, sending a sheet of light rain down upon the Vesuvian streets. Outside, I didn’t recognize the district we were in. There was a canal running alongside the house past the rain splattered windows, shifty figures moving under the cover of their hoods. We must be in South End.  

“She was a....I don’t know.  A creature of some kind. Bound with the dark arts.”

The dark arts. It was a topic we rarely went over in our studies - mostly due to how wicked that magic was. It could only be practiced with the destruction of life, and could be used to perform the most malevolent of magic.  Necromancy, curses and the like. And sometimes...used to create creatures made entirely of dark essence. They have a contempt for human life, and typically serve a higher power.”

“A higher power?” I leaned forward, eyes furrowed as I studied his face. “Who could have sent her? And why?”

Asra shook his head helplessly, while Julian watched completely bewildered. “I have no idea. Only that she left this.”

From his pocket, he drew a letter. There was a spike of pain in my head as I began to recall what happened. “She left that,” I remembered.  “She said it was for you, from a...mutual friend.”

“Well I have no idea what sort of ‘friend’ we might have in common...unless...” Asra’s brows bumped together, watching his hands.

“Unless..?”

My prodding was pushed away with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing.”

I sighed. “All right. Well what did it say then?”

He passed the letter over, Julian scooting around to get a good look. Asra had already torn open the letter, so I opened it up, slipping the parchment into my hands, my eyes grazing over the words. It was just a single word, written in a red ink.  

 

_Soon._

 

“I didn’t take you as the sort to make enemies, Asra,” Julian noted lowly, leaning back against the wall.

“Neither was I. I have no idea what they could possibly want, especially with Ethren. Maybe he-”

“Boys!”

Asra and Julian jumped nearly a foot out of their skin, spinning around. A little woman was standing in the doorway, tawny eyes narrowed as she brandished a spoon, baring her teeth - her two fronts separated by a gap.  “The boy needs his rest. Scat!”

“But I was only-”

“We were just-”

“Out!”

Like scolded children, Asra and Julian glanced at one another before Asra reluctantly stood, turning to face me. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, pressing a kiss to my hand. Faust slithered up onto his arm and the two strode out of the room, bustling faster as the woman brandished her spoon at them.

“Impressive,” I muttered, grimacing as I sat up into a sitting position. “I can never make Asra move that fast.”

“They know better. And you will, too.”

“Yeah?” Your wooden spoon doesn’t scare me much.”

“Not yet it doesn’t.”

I liked her already. She walked inside, a slight limp to her as she moved to one of the bubbling cauldrons pressed against the wall. “You were asleep for three days,” she noted, crumbling some leaves with a mortar and pestle.  The herb’s paste began to congeal along the edge, and a minty scent began to fill the room. “You were damn near catatonic when Ilya brought you in. Are you feeling better?”

“Just tired,” I admitted.

“This should help move your recovery along.” She squeezed the paste into the cauldron, swishing it around a bit with her spoon before she began to pour it into a goblet. It was a slimy, lime green mush.  

Did she expect me to drink that.

“Uh, no thanks,” I said quickly, recoiling away from the paste as she drew a little bit out with a spoon.

“Open your mouth.”

“Hell no.”

“Open.”

“You can’t make- mmphg!”

My taste buds exploded as she shoved the thing in my mouth. I nearly gagged right there, lifting the back of my hand to my lips in order to keep myself from throwing it up.  

The woman rolled her eyes.  “Inane boy.”

She shoved another spoonful into my mouth, and I choked down that bit too before waving her off. “All right, all right,” I gagged. “I’m fine.”

I reached over, grabbing some water and downed it, my tastebuds recovering. “What’s your name, anyways.”

“You can call me Mazelinka, boy.”

“I assume this is your house?”

“It is. I’ve been housing Ilya for some time now.” She looked up to the eagle. “Do you need some as well?”

Dalax shook his wings, beady eyes narrowed in on the woman. _I’ll snap your fingers off before I ingest that filth, woman._

“Your bird has your manners, Ethren.”

“What manners.”

Mazelinka cackled, straightening. “A spitfire. No wonder you caught Ilya’s attention. Lay down, boy. That salve will be putting you to sleep any moment now.”

Almost as soon as she said it, my muscles began to grow heavy. Like they were lead, I gave a sleepy nod, reclining back into my bed, closing my eyes.

 

 

 

When I woke, I could almost instantly recognize the bed at our shop. The comfy mass of blankets and comforters that served as our sleeping area, complete with nearly ten fluffy pillows and sheets of silks. But what was most familiar, was Asra’s scent. It was everywhere. A faint lavender, mixed with  bit of pineapple sage.

I opened my eyes. I was back in my own clothes. Asra had taken the time to wrap my hands again. Dalax was nestled beside me, feathers brushed against my side as he dozed. “Wake up,” I muttered, poking his head and the bird stirred, glaring up at me.

“Do you know where Asra is?”

“I’m right here, Ren.”

His voice came from inside the scrying room.

Standing was an effort. My vision swam and I exhaled, putting a hand out to a wall, eyes closed tight as I focused on not collapsing. I could feel Dalax’s eyes on me, watching me warily. “I’m fine,” I promised him, fishing around until I snatched one of Asra’s staffs. Supporting my weight on it, I hobbled into the den, where I found Asra - my sword in his hand.

I stilled, watching him.

He was facing the roaring flames that flickered in the fireplace. The firelight reflected in his lavender eyes as he held my sword in his grasp, letting his gaze roam over the blade, his reflection glinting in the steel.

“You worried me,” He muttered as I entered into the room.

“Sorry. If I’d known what she was-”

“You wouldn’t have. Because you’re not trained to.” He sighed, turning around to hand me the blade. As soon as my wrapped fingers closed around the hilt, I felt a familiar surge of energy rush through my hand, swimming up my veins and warming my entire body.  

“You know why we don’t delve too deeply into magic,” I said, approaching him from behind. I watched him out of the corner of my eye.. “...what can happen if I lose control.”

“I know, I know, I just...” Asra scratched the back of his head, fingers curling into his ashen hair as he looked out the window. The rain finally died, leaving Vesuvia’s streets muddy, rain water splashing up as a couple horseback riders clopped down the cobblestone path outside. “We keep running away from you furthering your studies because we’re worried about you losing control. But without that experience, you were vulnerable. And I have a bad feeling that what happened that night might just be the beginning.”

“So I can just handle it how I always do.” A smirked touched my lips, brandishing my blade playfully in front of me. Asra arched a brow, clearly not impressed. “Hacking and slashing.”

Asra sighed, lowering the tip of my sword with his thumb, careful not to cut himself on the razor sharp edge. “Not all enemies can be conquered that way,” he says.

“So what do you think we should do then?”

Asra leaned back against the wall, rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully. “I was thinking maybe we could start with simple spells,” He said finally. “Lighting the wick of a candle...or trying to conjure water in a bowl...but...I think I have something else in mind.”

“Like what?”

He glanced up at me. I recognized that playful gleam in his eyes. “Something new,” he said. “Something that even some master magicians haven’t been able to do.”

“If not even master magicians can do it, the hell makes you think I can?”

He was suddenly pressed up against me, fingers touching my shoulders as his soft lips touched my cheek. “Your only problem is that you lack control,” he said. “But with this...you aren’t conjuring anything. It should be safe.”

“Should?”

He hesitated. “Well...magic can always go astray. But I believe you can do it.”

“...all right,” I said with a sigh, knocking my forehead against his in defeat. “What time do you want us to leave?”

“As soon as we wake. Consider it your last lesson.”

 


End file.
